


Spring Forward

by AlynnaStrong



Series: Love in the Time of Dragons [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff all the way down, Happy Ending, Rare Pairings, Season 8 Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 16:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19254871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlynnaStrong/pseuds/AlynnaStrong
Summary: Five years after the Battle of the Long Night, Brienne and Yara (plus Jaime and Cersei) take stock of their lives and plan for the future.





	Spring Forward

**Author's Note:**

> _Previously:_ Daenerys conquered most of Westeros with few civilian casualties and consolidated the North by marrying Jon. Yara and Brienne met in her service, married, and started a family together. The Great War brought Jaime back into the queen’s good graces. Brienne (in the role of Azor Ahai) defeated the Night King with the help of the Drowned God. Now we see what comes with spring.

For the past five years, a gentle spring had reinvigorated the kingdoms after the brief but brutal winter. Crops once again sprouted readily from the fields, and both people and livestock proved eager to repopulate the lands. Rumor had it that the Citadel was prepared to declare a start to summer as soon as the next meeting of the conclave.

Jaime shifted his position to face into the ocean breeze. The balcony of his manse had the best view of the beach, but at this time of day it was in full sunlight and far too hot for comfort. On the other hand, his dear friend Brienne was dressed head to toe in wool and seemed perfectly at ease in the Tarth climate. Perhaps his age was showing. He was approaching 50, after all with his youngest child almost ready to flower into a maiden.

The girl in question, young Brienne, now looked so like his beloved Cersei that he sometimes had to grasp his golden hand to convince himself he’d not gone back in time. The two shared long golden curls and flashing green eyes, though Brienne was taller and more muscular from years of sword training. Presently, she strolled along the beach with her potential betrothed. Jaime considered this a mere formality since the two had known each other since childhood.

Her namesake, Ser Brienne of the queensguard, smiled at him shyly. “They’ve always gotten along very well. I think it should be a good match.” Of her twin boys, Yaron had always been eager to practice swordplay with Jaime’s daughter when their families visited. Ironic that the boy named for the first queen of the Iron Islands had set his sights on becoming a knight, whereas his brother Galladon, named for the legendary swordsman of Tarth, loved nothing as much as sailing.

“Oh to be sure. They might quarrel and scrap, but it’ll keep them sharp. She’ll carry on with her education while Yaron earns his spurs. How is squiring for the dourest man to ever sit the throne suiting him?”

“The royal consort’s, um, temperament is thawing. A bit. Honestly I think he was disappointed that he didn’t get to sacrifice his life fulfilling the prophecy. You may have a point about there being such a thing as too dutiful. I don’t think the poor man knows how to have fun. He does love Queen Daenerys though, and she loves him.”

“Gag. Royal couples should never get along too well. Makes the small folk suspicious.”

“What about Yara and I?”

“She’s only technically a queen. How many times has her butt actually touched her throne?”

“Well-”

“Fewer times than you’ve touched her butt today, I wager.”

“Ahem. Back to the matter at hand,” Brienne said, changing the subject in an attempt to prevent him from getting a blush out of her. He never seemed to consider a visit complete until she was as red as his former house colors.

“Of course, the betrothal. By the way, what of Yaron’s brother? What poor maiden will have to compete with my girl to be your favorite gooddaughter?”

“Galladon’s earning his reputation among the Ironborn by serving on the _Sea Reaper_ now. He says when he’s a man grown, he’ll sail off and find a bride for himself in a far-away land. It’s not too different from the usual Ironborn way of doing things, though we have been emphasizing that women must be courted, not raided.”

“Do you think that’s how it will go?” Jaime asked

“”No, I think he’ll probably set out at 13, not 16. He’ll have a lot to prove, especially if Yaron marries first. There’s no hurry for them, by the way. We should let them come to marriage when they desire it, not at the first opportunity after she flowers. Assuming she’ll accept the match, of course.”

Brienne paused for a moment fiddling with her belt and waiting for Jaime to say something. He didn’t speak up soon enough to satisfy her – possibly a first. “So what do you think? Will she have him? You know, I never understood how nerve wracking it must have been for my father to allow me to turn down matches.”

“Will she accept Yaron?” Jaime scoffed. “I should think so.” _They’re so close, they’re practically brother and sister,_ he thought but did not say. “I only hope she’s not accepting him all the way to the hilt yet. It was your idea to send them off without her septa.”

“Jaime! They’re children! She’s not even flowered.”

“Forgive an old man for being protective about his youngest.” Jaime leaned forward, intending to place a mock kiss on Brienne’s hand. His brow furrowed. “Speaking of which… where are our wives?”

Brienne stood bolt upright. Yara had gone off about an hour ago to give their little one a break from the boring adults. She hadn’t noticed when Cersei drifted away while she and Jaime carried on reminiscing over old times. Not that Yara and Cersei didn’t get along, but they could both be intractably stubborn about the right way to do things. They had previously locked themselves into week-long disputes over matters such as bath temperature for infants ( _Cersei:_ warm so they don't get a chill; _Yara:_ cool because their skin is sensitive) and whether cheese should even be on the same table as fish ( _Cersei:_ sure, why not?; _Yara:_ you can go fuck yourself).

Jaime and Brienne were therefore both surprised and relieved to hear laughter coming from the flower garden. Emerging through an arched trellis covered in perfectly cultivated grapevines (Cersei spent a lot on time on her garden, growing everything beautiful expect for roses), they found their loves in gleeful spirits. Both women were breathless from watching four year old Sela trying to encourage the estate’s old mastiff to rise with her on its back. The long-suffering hound snoozed in the shade, indifferent to its would-be rider.

“Her little stick looks adorable, but you need to tell her that her lance needs to extend past the mount’s head,” Cersei remarked.

“Knight trainin’ is Brienne’s responsibility. My jobs are sailin’, cussin’, and lovin’.”

Yara felt a rap to the back of her head. She hadn’t heard Brienne stalking up behind her.

“Hey, dear. Just telling it like it is.” She stood to make room for Brienne and Jaime at the picnic table. She stole a kiss bold enough to raise the color in Brienne's cheeks while Jaime took a closer look at the scene.

He couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at the youngest of Brienne and Yara’s children. Whereas Galladon and Yaron were tall, black-headed, and brawny, and Rhaella had finely sculpted Valyrian features, Sela was the one who most resembled Brienne. She had the same messy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a frame it was polite to call sturdy but was really closer to giant. Strange then that she was also the only one Yara had given birth to.

His gaze met Cersei’s, and she responded with a subtle shrug that communicated to her twin that she hadn’t been able to figure it out either.

“Yara was telling me the good news about Rhaella,” Cersei said. She turned to stare down the big knight despite being seated and much shorter. Brienne had gained some experience at imposing glares during her time as Lady Commander, but she still couldn’t compete with Cersei’s presence. “It _is_ good news, Brienne.”

After a moment Brienne’s eyes shifted to the side, but she only uttered an inaudible grumble and took her seat at the table.

“You knew it was coming anyway, ever since she started riding that dragon. What does she call it, Pure Eye?”

“Yes,” Brienne mumbled. The bright blue dragon was from the first clutch of eggs Drogon had produced. The queen encouraged the bond and soon began treating Rhaella like the (human) child she could never have. She recently made it official and declared the girl her heir.

“Oh, don’t pull that face. She’ll always be yours, just like little Brienne is still ours even though we let Tyrion name her as his heir. Rhaella will make a much better queen than another misbegotten Targaryen. No matter her lineage, at least she’s not that.”

Cersei turned her gaze to Yara. The Ironborn queen was already loose-lipped with wine. She didn’t think she’d find a better opportunity. Cersei jutted her chin toward Sela. “Speaking of which, are you ever going to say who sired that one? Brienne’s father? A bastard brother? Come on, we’re all friends here.”

Yara shrugged. “May as well say the end of winter sired her, as I have little recollection of it.” Not a word was a lie, but she was relying on misinterpretation. She reckoned they’d assume a wild orgy that she was too drunk to recall. Quite to the contrary, she remembered the aftermath of the battle well, albeit in a bit of a grey haze as her body recovered from being dead. Brienne had been there, and they’d returned to Winterfell wobbly legged and utterly exhausted; that’s all she could say for sure.

Jaime always panicked a bit when he thought back on that day because he remembered so little of it. Still, he didn’t think he could possibly be the father. Yara was like a sister to him (and not in the sexy way).

“Do you have any grand plans for her future?” he asked. “The Conquering God-Queen of Essos, perhaps?”

“She gets to do whatever she wants, our littl’un,” Yara replied. “I reckon she’ll be a knight errant, riding around the kingdoms righting wrongs. Maybe Rhaella will be so good as to provide her with a prince or princess to be her squire, so’s it can be like the early days of Aegon the Unlikely when he was called Egg and traveled with a hedge knight. I don’t really care though. I just want her to be safe and happy.”

“Safe? Is our Ironborn queen growing soft? Whatever happened to growth through adversity, or however you say it?”

“Strength through conflict. Yeah. Well, I’ve seen plenty of that way of doing things. Mayhaps we should give the talkin’ version a try for a while.”

“It is harder when it’s their blood you’re risking, not your own. Every commander should be a mother,” Cersei said. “You should take your throne and ensure the Iron Islands keep to their new path.”

“Nah. I’m not too old to sail my ship yet, and I’d never be happy sitting on my arse. Theon’s doing a’right, considering it’s him.” Unsaid was that Brienne’s service in the queensguard was for life. Even if Brienne could have been convinced to beg retirement from Daenerys, now that their daughter was heir to the throne, Brienne would never leave her post.

Cersei filled goblets for everyone, biting off a reply about how foolish Yara was to turn her back on power. After all, hadn’t she been far happier on this island with Jaime and their daughter than she’d ever been maneuvering for the throne?

Cersei lifted her cup. “A toast. To a joyous wedding, a peaceful future, and grandchildren sometime within the upcoming summer.”

“Hear, hear,” everyone echoed.

Brienne relaxed in the garden, sparing a slow look around to take it all in. Her love, a woman who'd managed to stir to life parts of herself she'd been content to deny. Her best friend who'd started as a despised enemy and ended up the most honorable of men. His wife – and sister, true but don't they say love conquers all? - a formidable woman who wisely put love before pride and left the throne behind.

Lastly, her beloved daughter, Sela. Named for Brienne's father, yes, but also for the sea.

Brienne could not explain her conception to Jaime because she didn't understand it herself. She and Yara had walked into the water at the Bay of Ice to send the Ironborn who had died during the Battle of the Long Night to the Drowned God’s hall. Though the water was near freezing, they barely felt it, flush from their recent triumph against the Night King and the glory of seeing the Drowned God in his magnificent physical form. An inchoate need drew Brienne to her wife. Their kiss escalated in ardor with a speed that seemed primal. She didn’t remember removing any of their clothing, rather they seemed to flow together for a time as if they’d become one with the sea. They drifted in and out of each other, riding waves of pure pleasure. Occasionally Brienne’s conscious mind would point out that she had no idea where her hands were, but a white-hot climax wiped all that away.

Assuming everyone would find the story a bit insane, Brienne had kept it to herself. At least she did until after a couple turns of the moon, when Yara came to her with a distressed confession of pregnancy. Even Yara hadn't seemed inclined to believe her at first, though she eventually agreed that Brienne had never learned to lie worth a damn.

Brienne would never presume to know the will of the Drowned God or to prescribe a path for their miraculous child. Sela was not a reward, since Brienne had only been doing her duty, but a gift freely given and gratefully accepted.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride month & thanks for reading! Inspired by pictures of Gemma Whelan (Yara) with her [giant blonde baby.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BvZDqLQgI3T/) Really, what am I supposed to think?


End file.
